


On Low

by OceanofNoise



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fear of Discovery, M/M, POV Alternating, Pittsburgh Penguins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1484041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanofNoise/pseuds/OceanofNoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We like each other. All that matters,” Geno says like it’s the most obvious thing.</p><p>Sidney wishes desperately that it could be so simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Low

**Author's Note:**

> The title is borrowed from a line in Jason Mraz's "Water". The title originally contained the entire line but it was just too God damned long to look at. Alternatively this could be titled "The Very Predictable and Overly Idealistic Sid and Geno (Secret) Love Story", which I guess I would have had to eventually shorten to "Love Story". I feel like there's a Taylor Swift song/lawsuit in here somewhere.

It’s hard not to think about it. He has to wilfully push those thoughts out of his mind and fill them with something, anything else: Kadar’s next method of torture, losing his bet with Tanger and having to smell the inside of Bortz’s after practice gloves, finding out that Nealsy’s head of hair is actually a dead cat, the contrast of Sidney’s dark hair curling against his forehead and the pillow as Evgeni—

Shit.

Usually he’s one of the last off the ice. It’s just habit. But he sees Sidney setting up another drill and averts his glance from the rink. Instead, he heads towards the boards.

“What’s the matter Geno? Think you can’t hold pace with Capt’n Croz?” Nealsy jostles him out of the way to exit the ice first.

“Just tired today,” he says before he can check himself and it’s nearly as damning of an admission as “Sid and I had sex last night”.

Nealsy doesn’t catch the underlying connotation but he knows that Sidney does when the clatter of the metal bucket against the ice sends pucks rolling out into disarray. He and Nealsy snap their heads towards Sidney on instinct. The man in focus sighs to himself and begins collecting the stray pucks one by one. Evgeni waits for Nealsy to disappear through the tunnel before stepping back onto the ice and silently fishing out some of the stragglers.

“Thanks,” Sidney mumbles as Evgeni drops the last of them into the bucket. Sidney’s eyes are turned down and he’s cradling a line of pucks against his chest. All Evgeni can think of is how much he wants to close the distance between them and brush his lips softly against Sidney’s.

They’re alone. They’re close enough so that he could be quick and discreet. He wants to show Sidney that last night meant something to him. He wants to know if it meant something to Sidney too. But when it comes to Sidney he’ll be better served to err on the side of caution. Instead he gives Sidney a gentle tap on the helmet before joining the rest of his teammates in the locker room. He lets his glove linger longer than necessary and when Sidney doesn't shift away Evgeni takes it as a personal victory.

Yet the terror of coming back to his empty, roommate-less hotel room for his afternoon nap does not subside. He's trapped in his own head with the thoughts of the night before as his eyes close.

It had happened so suddenly that he wonders if they'd been building up to it over the last few seasons, perhaps subconsciously willing it into being. The accompanying alcohol with the team dinner left the details a little muddled. Or inconsequential. He couldn't blame any cognitive impairment as the taste of Sidney’s mouth had an unfortunate sobering effect on Evgeni. At that moment he couldn’t turn back. His body wouldn't let him. He would never be able to forget the feeling between Sidney's thighs or the urgent sounds made through those obscenely bitten lips or the intoxicating mixture of rink and wine in the sweat—

Evgeni lays a hand on himself and doesn’t last long.

What does is the humiliation. He shouldn’t want it, but his body aches for the fire and the friction beneath him, for the astonished expression on Sidney’s face as he lets himself go completely and releases his life and soul under Evgeni.

Then he remembers Sidney stumbling around the room shortly afterwards, collecting his clothing and making an apologetic getaway. And Evgeni, too stunned to object, had just watched helplessly as he left.

He wishes to go back to the time, less than twenty-hours ago when he wasn’t privy to what he is now. Now, he doesn’t think he can not want Sidney, to hold him, to touch him, to be one with him. If Sidney feels the same then that’s only half the battle won. What he wants is so simple. It's every other contending force in the world that makes it so difficult.

 

The pre-game handshake is perfunctory and almost feels indifferent. Sidney takes the step forward to leave the ice before Geno and he bites his lip, hard. He wonders if Geno hates himself for letting last night happen. Or maybe he blames Sidney. Or both. Because they couldn’t blame it on the alcohol. At least not entirely.

They were a little unsteady, stumbling into Geno’s room, groping around for the light switch. Sidney hadn’t meant to stay long but his parents had taught him to be a good guest, which was why he almost lost his balance trying to untie his right shoe while hobbling on his left. Geno had tried to catch him but collapsed on top of him instead, nestling into all the right places and when the giggles wore off—

There’s ice under his skates now. Sidney lets out a deep exhale. He can’t think about it now when there’s a game to play.

They score a quick one during a power play—a pass Sid makes to Kuni is buried behind Lundqvist—and celebrate behind the net. There’s a perceptible moment when Geno taps him on the helmet and freezes. It's not a lingering touch, it's a hesitant one. Sidney catches the look in his eyes and he can’t hold it, has to skate away.

They win the game against the Rangers convincingly, and that should be celebration enough. They have an early flight into Columbus so dinner is a hurried affair before they retire to their hotel rooms.

It could be easy to chalk it up to a plethora of circumstances. They had been drinking (not that much), they were commiserating over a loss (the sting had long wore down with the alcohol), both their road roommates were on IR (that doesn’t excuse their kind of behaviour), they both should have known better but somehow exercised poor judgment at precisely the wrong moment (an adequate assessment). Hockey players don’t have sex with each other just because the opportunity presents itself.

And Sidney will do everything in his power to make sure that it doesn’t happen again. It can’t happen. He won’t let one stupid decision endanger his (or Geno's) career. He’s been careful all his life to avoid distractions and pitfalls that could veer him off course. He, up to that point anyway, had been good at keeping temptation at bay. And although what had occurred the night before could be separated from their hockey, if left uncontained or uncontrolled it had the ability to ruin everything. For them both. He would be damned if he was going to let that happen.

There’s no sense in dwelling on it incessantly. What was done was done. Mistakes were made. All they can do is move forward. Sidney is Geno’s captain, and as such it’s his responsibility to seek him out and smooth things over. They could talk about it openly like mature adults. He's never needed to have a conversation quite like this but there's a first time for everything. The longer he puts it off the harder it will be to talk about it and the likelier it can infect their hockey.

Geno’s room is down the hall. He’s a little underdressed in sweatpants and an old t-shirt but he wants to get this over with as quickly as possible. He doesn’t imagine that the conversation will take long and there’s no way that Geno, with the same interests (if not even more at stake, with those Russian laws and whatnot), would rebuff him. It’s decided. He’ll go to Geno’s room, they’ll talk and that’ll be that.

He slides his feet into his trainers and slips out his door.

 

Evgeni is not the type of person that crashes the moment he gets home or to his hotel room. He needs to unwind, he needs his body and his body to settle. Beau liked to turn on the TV and flip to sitcoms to relax his mind and it becomes a part of Evgeni’s routine even with Beau out with a wrist injury.

He’s watched an episode of _The Big Bang Theory_ despite not really understanding all the jokes or even knowing all the characters’ names. That should do it. He hasn’t even thought about Sidney that much. If he doesn’t constantly refresh his memory then forgetting will be faster.

Just as he’s flicked off the television and about to turn off the lights when he hears a soft knock at the door. He contemplates feigning sleep and ignoring whoever it is with enough gall to come to him at half past eleven at night but he’s not exactly sleepy at the moment. He opens the door without looking at the peephole.

It’s Sidney.

His breath shorts out.

They stand there, staring at one another for what’s probably only a few seconds but feels infinitely longer. Finally Sidney opens his mouth as if to speak but Evgeni doesn’t let him. Instead he pulls Sidney inside, brackets Sidney’s hips with his hands and pushes him against the door.

Sidney’s t-shirt is pliant between Evgeni’s fingers and slips off easily. The skin underneath is warm against Evgeni’s palms.

Their eyes lock as Evgeni’s hand glides down past the waistband of Sidney’s underwear and grips him firmly. His tongue chases Sidney’s gasp deep into his mouth.

He feels Sidney’s moan as much as he hears it as their bodies slide together unrestricted, slick and tight and perfect.

It’s definitely after many more seconds that pass when Sidney, still catching his breath, pulls himself up. Evgeni watches him and can see the spit still glossing his raw lips. He reaches down to grab his boxers.

“Um,” he winces, likely at the dampness still there. “I came here to talk about something, but it’s kind of late, so maybe we can talk about it tomorrow.”

It looks like Sidney wants to leave the bed and that’s basically the diametric opposite of what Evgeni wants at the moment so he winds the arm closest to Sidney around his waist to pull them closer. “Don’t go,” he murmurs as he presses his lips against the back of Sidney’s neck.

“I… I have to,” but Sidney doesn’t move, not immediately. “What if someone sees us?”

Evgeni almost blurts out that he doesn’t care, which is a lie because he does. He cares about what other people would think about him, what the Russian government would do to him, so he lets Sidney shake off Evgeni’s arm and slip his clothes back on.

“No one… no one will see,” Evgeni tries even as Sidney is jamming his feet back into his sneakers. “I…” He doesn’t want to be alone tonight, not with these new impressions in his head, not with his body still buzzing with the feel of Sidney against him in all those wonderful, terrifying ways. He’d never felt more exhilarated and ashamed after sex with anyone else.

“We… we can’t risk it.” Sidney adjusts the well-worn hem of his t-shirt and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And just like the last time, Sidney shows himself out, taking a small piece of Evgeni’s heart with him.

 

Sidney strips his bottoms off the moment he’s back in his hotel room and runs his boxers under the tap. He’s running out of clean underwear, otherwise he’d just wipe them off and throw them along with the other dirty clothes in his suitcase. He is not only making poor decisions vis a vis his professional conduct with his alternate captain, but also with his road trip preparations. Next time—

There will be no next time.

It’s so easy to try to will that into existence when he’s alone. He can believe that he’ll feel nothing the next time he sees Geno or never think about Geno’s deft hands or tongue or—

Sidney sighs. He’s fooling himself if he believes that he can just flush it out of his system like the extra helpings of bacon in the morning. Geno is something he wants, it’s something he’s unaccustomed to having. He knows when to draw the line when it comes to his dietary deviances. When it comes to… whatever this is, he doesn’t know what’s allowed and when to stop.

And if he’s being perfectly honest with himself, he likes what’s going on. He likes the way Geno handles him, firm but surprisingly tender, apprehensive like he isn’t exactly sure of what he’s doing but determined like he wants to do it anyway. He’s willing to lead despite what Sidney can perceive as inexperience. And he’s selfless, those vulnerable eyes watching Sidney, making sure Sidney’s needs are filled before tending to his own. For nobody’s sake but his own Sidney wants to keep this going. He doesn’t want to stop.

He knows that he should, because this kind of behaviour comes with a heavy price tag, one he spent all his life avoiding. And the more they yield to this indulgence, the more difficult it will be to stop. But when Geno kisses him like that, touches him in all those ways he never knew he needed, he's reduced to the single mindset of wanting and taking everything Geno gives him.

He’s got as much to lose as Geno. Probably less. He’s read on the news how gay people are treated in Russia. Not to say that he or Geno are gay. Having sex with each other doesn’t automatically mean that either of them is gay, even if they’ve done it more than once, even if Sidney can admit to himself that he wouldn’t be against doing it again. But that doesn’t matter to other people. They’re quick to make judgments and sometimes even quicker to action. For his own safety Geno should be the guarded one, he should be the one pushing Sidney away instead of pressing him closer. Then why is he letting it happen?

He doesn’t pretend to understand people. He’s dealt with giving hearts and fickle minds about equally. He isn’t always sure what makes people act the way they do. Love and hate is how he reconciles it in his head, but aren’t humans more complicated than two basic emotions?

Sidney wrings his underwear out and drapes it over the shower curtain rod to dry. He needs to be up in six hours for their flight but his body and his mind are still wired. He supposes that he can sleep on the plane. Right now what he needs is a hot shower.

As he washes himself clean he attempts to approach the situation from different perspectives. Ultimately he concludes that this could either be the best or the worst thing that’s ever happened to him (distinct from hockey at least) and above all, it’s a risk interweaved with other risks that he needs to decide whether to take or not.

Or just take it at face value as two unattached men just getting each other off. What they had done with each other isn’t sex in the technical sense, but the implications are there just the same.

By the end of his shower he’s exhausted, both mentally and physically. He goes to bed without reconciling either or.

 

“G, you wanna play President with us?” Nealsy asks him before even taking his seat. Evgeni lifts his eyelids enough to see him waving a pack of playing cards in his face.

Evgeni shakes his head, closes his eyes and turns his body towards the airplane window. “Not sleep good last night. I nap now.”

Nealsy plops down beside him and the rest of the team settles in their seats. Evgeni adamantly refuses to do anything except zone out. Two hours is plenty of time to catch up on lost sleep.

Once the jet is in flight people begin to reconfigure, grabbing things out of bags and selecting their seat partners according to their desired in-flight activities. Nealsy stays where he is and entreats those in for a game of cards to take the seats around him rather than relocate to them.

“Lazy,” Glassy chirps, but Evgeni hears the rustling of large men dropping into the seats nearby him.

He’s halfway asleep when a cry comes a few rows back, jolting him back into full consciousness.

“You don’t want to play? Why not?!” Flower shrieks from the back.

“I didn’t sleep much last night, leave me alone,” Sidney groans.

“Who’s going to be on my team then?”

“C’mon, you have a better chance of winning with Sid sitting out,” Tanger points out, laughing at his own chirp. Sidney lets out a cranky grunt and that’s the last of that.

There’s a game tonight so the team forgoes a pre-game skate for which Evgeni is relieved. He doesn’t sleep a wink on the plane. As they exit he catches a glimpse at the dark circles under Sidney’s eyes and can assume the same for him.

He can’t help himself though. He waits and lets the others file onwards ahead of them. Sidney is last off the plane, his coat in one hand and his carry-on in the other. Evgeni gives him a weak smile and then in a gesture of solidarity he gives Sidney’s shoulder a quick, soothing rub. Sidney leans into him for just a perceptible moment before drawing away and breaking into a jog to catch up with the others.

It’s over before Evgeni even registers it happening, but it makes the blood in his veins rush just a little bit faster. The moment is like a caffeine jolt. He doesn’t feel the slightest bit sleepy anymore.

Everything else goes as scheduled. They have enough time for lunch, the pre-game nap and the soccer (actually football but this is North America so he adapts) kick-around. And although they lose the game it’s not the worst they could have done, all things considered. A bystander would be none the wiser as to the changes between the team captain and his alternate. For at least that much Evgeni could be boastful.

The team bus takes them to their hotel and they mill around the lobby impatiently until the rooms and the key cards are distributed. Evgeni is bouncing on his feet in anticipation.

He thinks, as he mentally catalogues the number of Sidney’s room as it’s called out, it would be much easier for him to give this up if Sidney would push him away. Now that he’s had a taste of it he doesn’t see any reason to deprive himself of it if Sidney is willing as well. He may as well take his fill before Sidney comes to his senses. Evgeni lingers behind, letting his teammates take the elevator up while he feigns interest in some of the artwork beside the concierge desk. Finally, when the last of them has descended up the elevator, he grabs his suitcase and waits for the next one to take alone.

Sidney looks resigned as Evgeni shows up at his door with his luggage. But when Evgeni presses a soft kiss against Sidney’s mouth, Sidney hooks his right calf onto Evgeni’s left one and pulls them closer.

“Wait, wait,” Evgeni has to break the kiss (with great reluctance) because he came here with more than one purpose. “Sid, remember—“ They both gasp in unison when Sidney resettles himself to stand up straight and his need presses against Evgeni’s, and it's just instinct that he pushes his hips into it, losing his mind just for a moment. But they need to set some things straight. His eyes close in concentration. “Remember yesterday, you say you need to talk?”

He isn’t particularly in the mood for a discussion, especially with so little space between him and what he wants, but he needs to hear what Sidney thinks, and he wants them to be on the same page (he doesn’t know exactly where that is, but he’s basically willing to start wherever Sidney wants, even though he feels like he’s missed a couple of chapters).

“Oh. Yeah,” the frustration is evident in Sidney’s voice but he gently tugs himself away from the wall. Evgeni moves with him. “We should probably be sitting down for this.”

They ease themselves onto the closest double bed. Evgeni rests his hand on Sidney’s knee and waits for him to speak.

 

The pressure of Geno’s hand on Sidney’s knee is heavy and expectant and Sidney needs to take a gulp of air to help clear his mind. He thinks back to the words that he had rehearsed to himself the night before, the ones that had basically flew right out of his head when Geno crowded him against the door with eyes imparting a silent plea that Sidney could only answer by arching his hips forward. Those words don’t seem to carry the same sort of relevance anymore.

Instead, Sidney places his hand on top of Geno’s and runs his fingertips along the gaps between Geno’s fingers. Instead of telling him that they can’t do this anymore, he asks what this is (as if it could be defined).

“I thought you know?”

“I don’t.”

Geno looks frustrated with himself, like he’s trying to piece together the right words from Russian to English. His attempt is thus: “But you like, Sid?” He supplements this by sliding the hand on Sidney’s knee up further along the thigh.

Sidney shivers as the heat of arousal begins to pool low in his belly. The decision has been made. There’s no sense in fighting it. He closes his eyes and says “I do.”

There’s warmness against his face as he can feel Geno closing in. “And you like me?”

“Yes,” Sidney says without hesitation, and doesn't need the aid of sight to catch Geno’s mouth with his own.

Before long he’s in Geno’s lap with a thigh between his. Sidney threads his fingers tightly through Geno’s hair as he grinds down with his hips, unable to stop himself. “Geno, _Geno…”_

He feels Geno’s hands slipping under his t-shirt as he runs his palms along his sides. “Sid, please,” Geno pants against his mouth, and pauses to suck Sidney’s bottom lip. Sidney can’t help but whimper. His fingers dig into Geno's scalp as their hips slide together rhythmically. Geno grips at Sidney’s back muscles as he captures Sidney's mouth again in a searing kiss. He's Geno's now, body and mind.

Later, when their heartbeats steady and Geno’s arm is slung round his chest, he tries to worm his way out of bed. Geno doesn’t let him, his hands tightening.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, eyes still shut.

“I need to shower,” he tells Geno, because he’s already revelled in the afterglow long enough and now he just feels sticky and gross. He can’t sleep like this. “And we should probably get ready for bed.”

Geno’s eyes drift open and his eyes are dark and imploring as he looks at Sidney full-on. It makes the breath catch in Sidney’s throat. “Let me stay tonight, okay? No leave again, please.”

He hesitates because he knows that he hasn’t been fair to Geno. He doesn’t think that there’s any kind of etiquette when it comes to what they’re doing, but he can’t bring himself to be an asshole and leave Geno a third time in a row, even if spending the night together makes him feel a little unsettled. Whatever indefinable thing they’re doing, he can handle as long as he and Geno are on the same wavelength. What comes after threatens his sensibilities and makes him feel like he’s falling into quicksand. But under Geno’s soft gaze and strong hold he finds himself sinking in, willingly.

“Okay,” he relents. “But don’t bitch about my routines, okay?” Because while he’s not as obsessive-compulsive when it comes to matters outside of hockey, routines are still routines and he doesn’t do well with disturbances in that regard.

Geno’s post-orgasm smile is indication enough of consent.

Sidney showers while Geno grabs some essentials from his suitcase. And even though he’s seen Geno strip down to nothing in the locker room showers, had practically undressed Geno himself in the heat of the moment less than an hour ago, it still feels foreign to see him climb into the shower buck naked while Sidney brushes his teeth by the sink.

They crawl into the second double bed together. Geno tucks himself against Sidney easily and he has to admit, he likes the warmth of Geno’s chest on his back. The soft cadence of Geno’s breathing eventually lulls him to sleep.

 

Evgeni wakes up to an empty bed and a sharp cuss word in the air. He opens one eye and follows Sidney’s voice into the bathroom.

There’s still a little shower steam wafting in the air but the sight of Sidney leaning against the counter in only a crisp white towel is particularly radiant in the soft bathroom lighting and does things to Evgeni’s heart that he’s helpless to stop. Sidney jerks his head as Evgeni enters and frowns.

“I cut my lip,” he says. He still has a few streaks of shaving cream on his chin and a small dot of red from the cut in question.

Without thinking Evgeni leans in and presses a quick kiss onto Sidney’s upper lip and doesn’t even regret it even when Sidney squirms away from him indignantly and there’s the taste of shaving cream on his tongue.

“I like to give myself an hour for breakfast,” Sidney announces with just a touch of apprehension once he's fully dressed. He's watching Evgeni as though he's expecting an answer.

“Okay,” Evgeni says for lack of any other response.

“So if you want to stay here later then it’s up to you.”

Oh. Right. “Wait for me, we go down together.” Evgeni bars the bathroom exit with his arms while leaning over to look at the digital clock on the nightstand: he has about fifteen minutes before Sidney intends to go down and mentally calculates how quickly he needs to shower in order to keep his promise.

Sidney doesn’t look convinced. “It’s okay, you can take your time. It’s better if we go separately anyway.”

Evgeni winces. He doesn’t want that at all, and the air of indifference in Sidney’s voice harshly juxtaposes the breathy confessions from the night before. “I be fast.” He declares and cocks an eyebrow, daring Sidney to challenge him.

He keeps his promise with change to spare. They stand in front of the closed door and Sidney peers out the peephole, straining to look left and right. Evgeni waits behind him.

“Okay, let’s go.” He swings the door open and practically leaps out of the room.

Evgeni shakes his head as he eases the door shut behind him. He’s never seen Sidney behave this way and he'd consider it ridiculous if he couldn't relate just a tiny bit. “Sid, relax.”

Sidney fixes a condescending look on him that has the same effect as a visual scoff.

“You act weird, draw more attention,” Evgeni points out in the same vain but then he laughs against his will at the absurdity of it all. He has no idea why he finds this man so attractive.

“I’m not acting weird,” Sidney hisses, jamming the elevator button with unnecessary vigour. Then, just on the side of petulance, “You’re acting weird. You should be more scared than me.”

Just for that, Evgeni in full view palms the curve of Sidney’s ass and laughs again when Sidney forcefully pushes Evgeni’s hand away and turns to him with his eyes on fire. “What the fuck are you doing?!“

“Relax. No one here to see.” Evgeni is sure of that. He'd checked. He’ll be reckless but he won’t be _stupid._

The elevator doors open just in time and they make haste inside. And not even within the confines of the elevator is it okay to place a hand on Sidney’s arm. He only means it as a calming gesture but Sidney wants nothing of it.

“There are probably cameras in here,” he says through clenched teeth and barely moving lips. Evgeni sighs and shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his sweatpants. But to Sidney’s credit he does offer him an apologetic look and add “We can talk about it later.”

He knows Sidney’s paranoia isn’t unfounded. He’s been a public figure since he was a teenager and he’s had jerseys stolen right out of his luggage before he’d even been drafted by the NHL. And he knows that sleeping together only serves to trigger his neurosis even further. And he knows that he should be scared shitless himself, coming from a country that has all but criminalized homosexuality. But part of him likes the danger. Part of him wants to march up to one of his teammates and declare that “Sid and I are sleeping together” and watch his jaw hit the floor. Part of him wants to confront the ruthless world and see what it dares to do about it.

Not that he’d ever admit anything of the sort to Sidney.

They do part ways when they reach the dining hall, but not before Sidney brushes their knuckles together ever so discreetly. Evgeni lets his cling against Sidney’s before Sidney is stuffing his hands into his pockets and finding a seat near Brandon Sutter.

Nealsy regards Evgeni critically as he sits down beside him. “What the hell are you looking so smug about?”

 

The team is always glad when the plane touches down on Pittsburgh soil. They’re eager to see their wives, their young ones and re-establish their place in the family home.

For Sidney, he has neither a spouse nor children. He comes back to walls that convey nothing and a silence that says everything. His new house is still only half furnished with sterile, unlived-in pieces and fails to feel like a home.

That’s why, he rationalizes to himself, he accepts Geno’s invitation to dinner at his own Sewickley mansion so eagerly. And neither of them pretends to not know exactly what an evening together will entail. Sidney stops by his house briefly to drop off his luggage and pack and overnight bag.

The door has barely clicked shut when Geno turns to him. His eyes are dark and expectant and he’s biting the inside of his lip. Sidney is beginning to recognize that look. It’s the same one he got that first night. And Sidney is a little surprised at how quickly things are unfolding but thinks why the hell not as he leans in to meet Geno halfway.

 

Evgeni crawls on top of Sidney and sucks a kiss against the skin behind his ear while Sidney moves against him in ways that drive him crazy, that make him want to throw away everything he’s worked for his entire life to keep Sidney to himself for just one more night.

“Sid,” Evgeni pants and presses their foreheads together. The cliché of being dizzy with desire has never felt as apt as now. “Please, tell me what you want.”

Sidney is watching him, looking unsure and Evgeni begins to wonder if Sidney’s even heard him when he says in a whisper “I want you inside me.”

Evgeni closes his eyes and exhales loudly. He has a strange notion that this might change everything, twist them together irrevocably and maybe he’s not entirely in the right frame of mind to make an objective decision but right now he can’t think of anything else in the world he would want more.

He kisses Sidney deeply and murmurs “Are you sure?” because although he wants this more than he can comprehend, he needs to know that Sidney does too. That they'd reach this point was inevitable, but he’s terrified of fucking this up, so to speak. This is nothing he’s ever done before and he’s worried that he’ll do it wrong, that he’ll hurt Sidney and he’ll never get to touch him again. If they're going to do this then he has to be completely honest. “I never do this before,” he admits, barely audible as if the walls might mock him.

Sidney’s eyelids drift closed and he nods. “Me neither. But…” his eyes open again and there’s a vulnerability that Evgeni’s never seen before, and in that moment it makes him want to do something completely foolish, like fall in love with Sidney Patrick Crosby. “I trust you.”

It hits him with a full body shudder. He knows now that he’s at the mercy of their flesh.

He does his best to make it as good for Sidney as he can and freezes with panic when Sidney’s groan is mixed with more pain than pleasure. But he presses Evgeni on and it isn’t long before a hand is reaching back to grip Evgeni’s hip and a litany of “Right there, Geno, oh God” are urging him deeper. Evgeni is moaning Sidney’s name and nonsense that he fears he’ll be teased for later, but he can’t last much longer now with the frantic pace of the rhythm they’ve set. He presses his face against the back of Sidney’s neck and with one more thrust he’s gone.

They’re a triumphant mess on top of Evgeni’s rumpled sheets but neither of them make a move to get up until one of their stomach grumbles, he’s not sure whose.

“Pizza?” Evgeni barely enunciates.

“Sure,” Sidney responses in kind.

He lets Sidney choose the toppings, being a good host and all (and because apparently Sidney has some vendetta against olives) then get themselves cleaned up and presentable for when the delivery arrives.

“I’m okay,” Sidney insists despite the way he winces with what seems like every movement he makes. Their three days off from the Penguins game schedule could not have been more timely.

They demolish the pizza easily while watching the NHL Network in the living room. A good workout did always have that effect on them.

“Want dessert?” Evgeni offers, because he had been taught good manners, even if nothing else had prepared him for what had transpired moments ago, or what may transpire in the future.

“Sure. What do you have?”

He spoons out a generous amount of vanilla bean ice cream for each of them.

Sidney’s saying something, about Carey Price, or maybe it’s Gary Bettman. Evgeni nods along and lets Sidney talk his fill while he licks his spoon spotless before going back to the bowl for another mouthful. It’s a cycle that he’s vaguely noticed during team meals but now, as Sidney pokes his tongue out to sweep the white residue on his lower lip, his eyes are transfixed.

Watching Sidney Crosby eating ice cream in only boxer shorts, a loose-fitting tee and bare feet should not be this erotic.

“How come you’re not eating?”

Evgeni glances down at the bowl of (formerly ice) cream in his lap. He suppresses a shiver and takes a few spoonfuls for show. Later, he promises himself, he’ll get Sidney back into bed and have a taste of something even sweeter.

 

Sidney’s still sore the next morning as he eases himself carefully onto a stool beside the kitchen island. Geno’s turned to the stove and the smell in the air is a mingling of pancakes and scrambled eggs.

A part of him still thinks that he should be freaking out about this whole arrangement. This is unlike anything he’s ever done before with anyone. This, when he reconciles what it is at a later time, could very well mark the end of the life he had once known. But when Geno turns to him with a neatly plated breakfast and a shy little smile, he can’t help but smile back.

Geno sets down two glasses of milk. “Have syrup, butter, jam for pancakes,” He gestures towards the assortment of toppings on the counter and only grins a little bit when Sidney on instinct reaches for the maple syrup.

An ache shoots up his backside and he freezes with another wince. He can feel Geno’s eyes watching him and when he gathers the courage to look him straight in the face he can see that there’s a blush there too. Geno’s the first to avert his gaze. He pushes the bottle of syrup within arm’s length for Sidney.

After a minute or so of companionable silence as they start on their breakfasts Sidney figures that he should start the discourse. Although Geno’s English is improving season by season it’s still quite coarse so it would be unfair for Sidney to expect him to articulate his exact feelings at the moment.

He isn’t sure how to proceed. Some small talk to get things going should do the trick.

“Any plans for today?” Sidney asks after downing a few gulps of milk. They don’t have practice until tomorrow so the entire day is theirs.

Geno shakes his head, still chewing.

“I probably just need to get a few things at Giant Eagle. And I should probably call the bank to tell them about my change of address.” That he should have done months ago but he’s over at the Lemieux's so often anyway that it barely seems necessary. Nathalie always gathers his mail into a neat stack for him which he takes on his way out.

Geno swallows. “I need buy milk and other stuff. We go Giant Eagle together.”

Sidney feels a cold sweat coming. “Um, maybe it’s not a good idea to go together.”

“Why not?” Geno sets his fork down with a clank. “Sunshine and Bortz go shopping together all the time.”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” Sidney mumbles, looking down at his plate.

“What,” the tone in Geno’s voice is challenging and spiteful. Sidney doesn’t like the sound of it. “You think we go buy grocery together, people know that we fuck last night?”

Sidney closes his eyes and inhales deeply. It’s a stress relief method that his mother had passed down to him. “No,” he says after a moment, although he actually means ‘not exactly’. “The two of them are roommates. We would really have no reason to be shopping together.”

“What, friends shop together too. No big deal,” Geno points out.

Frankly, Geno looks angry and Sidney doesn’t want to deal with this right now. But he sees an opening so he’s going to take it while he has the chance.

“Geno, are we just friends?”

The scowl on his face softens and is replaced by one of terror. He mumbles something that sounds like “I don’t know” as he stirs the remnants of the scrambled eggs on his plate.

Sidney sighs. He’s not good at this kind of thing.

But Geno’s a little better. He reaches over and brushes his fingers over Sidney’s. The breath Sidney sucks in is shaky. “Sid.” Sidney closes his eyes again and concentrates on the feel of Geno’s fingertips on his skin. The rhythmic strokes are almost tickling but serve to ease his mind enough for him to relax a little bit. “Sid. I—I like you. Like you lot.”

It’s as dangerous of an admission as he’ll get from Geno, and it makes his blood run hotter and faster. Sidney makes it easier for himself to respond by not having to look at him. “I like you too, Geno.” As if these are deniable truths.

There’s a soft scrape of the stool leg against the ceramic tiles as he feels Geno shift closer. Their shoulders touch briefly before he feels Geno’s chapped lips press against his temple. Sidney sighs again but leans into the kiss anyway.

“We like each other. All that matters,” Geno says like it’s the most obvious thing.

Sidney wishes desperately that it could be so simple.

 

Over the course of several weeks Evgeni comes to realize that he learns a lot about Sidney by the amount of time they spend together, and the way that they spend it.

It’s no secret that Sidney is pretty idiosyncratic. At the rink he has about a dozen little rituals that are performed without fail. The same goes for almost all other aspects of Sidney’s daily events. Evgeni isn’t exactly sure where he fits into the complexity that is Sidney’s life but as long as Sidney allows it he figures that all systems are go.

He knows that Sidney likes to be clean after a good workout, whether it be from practice or otherwise. He’s in the shower not long after they’ve basked in their afterglow and if the sheets are stained or overly damp with sweat then he won’t sleep until they’ve all been changed. Evgeni figures that the extra laundry is a trade-off in his favour.

He can’t help teasing Sidney after several tubs of body butter become a mainstay in Evgeni’s bathroom.

“I hate the feeling of dry skin,” he says, and Evgeni can’t help but ghost a kiss on Sidney’s wrinkled nose. Pittsburgh weather can get quite dry and Goldbond has worked quite nicely for Evgeni. But admittedly, he finds himself scooping out some of Sidney’s brazil nut body butter and enjoying the scent that lingers on his skin. He doesn’t know very much about pheromones but that stuff must be helping because he’s not imagining Sidney’s amorous glances when they get into close range.

Despite all his weird quirks Sidney is overall not a complicated person. They play hockey together, hang out with the guys, have fantastic sex and occasionally cook a few questionable dishes. Sidney’s no culinary expert but he has macaroni and cheese pretty much down to a science. His Russian friends would tease him for enjoying such an unrefined dish if they didn’t know how many different types of cheeses Sidney seeks out for the perfect blend of sauce. Sidney’s (limited) cooking, like the rest of his undertakings, are taken with a severity that borders on obsession.

The same goes for their carnal acts. Evgeni already thought that the sex was good from the outset. But once they had gotten over the hesitation and the inexperience the sex gets even better. Sometimes they’re overzealous and mark each other in ways that their teammates can’t overlook (for which Sidney has a catalogue of explanations). Evgeni just can't help himself, with Sidney's bare neck, chest and thighs presented to him like a blank canvas.

All in all Sidney’s surprisingly receptive and not afraid to try new things. For that Evgeni is very, very grateful. They’ve come to know each other’s bodies inside and out and although he won’t say that Sidney has any particular kinks, Evgeni’s come to find that Sidney loves being touched as well as deep, drawn-out kisses. The fact that Sidney likes kisses isn’t much of a shocker, with those plush lips of his. And he knows now that Sidney isn’t exactly averse to physical contact, as long as it’s the right kind, and Evgeni is more than eager to make new discoveries in that regard. And he likes that they’re learning these things together. He has no inclination to seek any more out with anyone else.

It comes so naturally to them. When they’re alone and have ample time Evgeni sees no reason why he shouldn't spend it mapping Sidney out with his hands and mouth. He’s been to Sidney’s place a handful of times but Sidney seems to prefer going to Evgeni’s because, as Sidney put it, “It’s not ready”. The more Evgeni thinks about it, the more he realizes that after that first night together when he found himself overcome with something that he could never really explain or pinpoint, that Sidney has spent more nights at Evgeni’s place than his own.

Not that he’s complaining. In fact, all things considered, he likes to think of himself as a lucky guy. And not because he has Sidney in a way that he’s sure thousands, if not millions, of fans have wanted him. Surely Sidney knows what he does to Evgeni. In the rapture of his kiss, his touch, Evgeni is powerless. A more opportunistic man would probably use it to his advantage.

Like on the ice, they're in tune on most aspects.

But not all.

They’re sitting on his couch, eating take-out from an Italian place that Sidney likes while watching one of Sidney’s shows on Netflix. It’s become a familiar sight in Evgeni’s house.

“So…” Sidney begins, sounding uncertain and looking nervous as he swirls the spaghetti with his fork. “Is your mom coming for the mom’s trip?”

Evgeni shakes his head. The mom’s trip was announced that day, months in advance and resulted in no lack of delighted squealing (and not just from the invited, but from their sons too). “She going to carry Olympic torch. Can’t…” he wiggles his fingers as he wracks his head for the most articulate way to explain it. “Time zone?”

“Oh.” Evgeni can swear that Sidney looks relieved. “Don’t feel bad. Olli Maatta’s mom’s not coming and not even all the moms from North America are even coming.”

“I not mind,” Evgeni says truthfully. “She come to Sochi. See her then.”

Sidney chuckles nervously, still twirling the same portion of pasta on his fork. “So, um, you didn’t tell her anything right? About us?”

Evgeni gives Sidney a sidelong glance. The recipient misses it completely as he stares straight ahead at the television. “No.”

He sees the corners of Sidney’s mouth turn upward and shovels his forkful of spaghetti into it at last.

 

It’s not that Sidney is averse to anyone, including his parents, finding out about what he and Geno have been doing with each other for the past few weeks. It’s more that he’s averse to everyone finding out, _especially_ his parents. Not caring about what other people think is easier said than done if it’s something as big of a deal as this. Would people be disgusted? Disappointed? He couldn’t push out years of teenaged locker room chirping and a lifetime of mental conditioning.

They’re fighting. He knows from experience. By now Sidney is able to recognize the signs. It starts when Geno suggests that they tell management that they can book the two of them to one room. Sidney tries to convince him otherwise.

“Wasteful, Sid,” Geno reprimands. “Hotel rooms not cheap.”

“I doubt that they would even get reimbursed,” Sidney says, trying to sound sure in this knowledge. “These rooms are booked months in advance.”

“You just not want to tell them. We both know Sunshine and Duper out for months. Make sense. Other room just sit there for pretend use. Waste of money.”

He knows that Geno is playing on the guilt card. They both didn’t grow up with very much—Geno particularly—and while he isn’t cheap, Sidney knows that Geno is very aware of the importance of money. Sidney doesn’t have any defense against this argument.

He takes a stab at it anyway. “I don’t think management would be happy to hear that their top two centres are sharing a room during flu season.”

“You and Duper share room for years as line mates. That even worse, no?”

He can't argue himself out of that one. Regretfully, Sidney takes the coward’s way out.

“Well then if you’re so concerned about wasteful spending then why don’t you tell the Russian government that you don’t need your own room in Sochi when all the other countries are doing two or three to a room?” Sidney shoots back. It’s petulant and no good will come from it but he’s speaking out of anger.

It’s a sore subject to Geno and that’s precisely why Sidney touched on it specifically. He sees Geno’s face darken. “Sometimes Sid, you big asshole.” He says it like he means it.

Maybe he does. Maybe Sidney is. “I just don’t see the point in making any changes when things are working just fine.”

“’Working just fine’?” Geno repeats in disbelief. “For who? Just you.”

Sidney closes his eyes and exhales. “You’re just asking for too much too fast.”

This is heading into dangerous territory. “I just say that maybe we eat with parents once in Sochi. How that too much?”

“I’m just not ready for that, okay?” He doesn’t know if he ever will be.

Geno mutters something that Sidney recognizes as a Russian profanity. “Is just meal, Sid. Why so scare?”

“It’s not just a meal, and you know that.”

Sidney opens his eyes in time to see Geno scowling. “We—we not just do this—“ he waves at the space between the two of them “And not do anything else.”

“We play hockey together,” Sidney points out lamely.

Geno rolls his eyes. “That all?”

“Geno, of course not—“ Geno crosses his arms in front of his chest and Sidney slumps his head down.

He brings his hands to his face. “Geno, you mean a lot to me, okay? It’s just not as easy as you’re making it out to be. There’s—there’s a lot of things to consider. A lot that can go wrong. I don’t think either of us are prepared for the consequences.”

He feels a movement in front of him then Geno’s arm heavy against his shoulders. On instinct Sidney leans into it and rests his forehead against Geno’s neck. He still smells like rink ice. Sidney inhales slowly and lets the familiar scent settle comfortably into his bones.

“I know,” Geno says after a moment. “But…” he sighs.

Sidney sighs too. It’s a representation of all the things that are left unsaid.

“I love you,” Geno says it like he means it.

“I love you,” Sidney whispers in kind.

“All that matter.”

Sidney squeezes his eyes shut and tries to believe that.

 

“Damnit Paul, I’m hungry!” James whines as he scratches his nails against the bathroom door. “Hurry the freg up!”

“That’s rich, coming from you, Mr. Hog the Bathroom for Two Hours in the Morning!” Paul snaps back from the other side.

James pouts. He doesn’t! At least, not usually. Some people spend extra time dressing in the locker room. Some people like to stay on the ice longer. James just likes to take more time with his hair. What’s wrong with that?!

“Muh!” James goes back to scraping the door again. It’s not annoying. It’s encouraging.

“If you’re seriously that hungry just go and eat. I’ll go down after.”

James loves Paul, he really does. They’re best friends after all. But when it comes to food he doesn’t need to be called twice to the table.

“See ya later!” He grabs his key card and makes a swift exit out of the room.

He’s about to turn to the direction of the elevators when he hears a rustling of sounds and a giggle that is unmistakably Sid’s. James practically skids to a stop.

“Nghh... stop it.” Another giggle.

“For now. More later.” The low, accented voice has got to belong to Geno.

Wait, what the hell are they doing in a room together so early in the morning? He doesn't know whose room it is but that hardly seems to matter.

The door swings open and James feels caught eavesdropping just as much as he’s caught Sid and Geno doing… something. He’s not exactly sure what. Geno’s hand on Sid’s neck drops down and James exchanges deer-in-headlights looks with them both.

“Uh, morning,” James stutters.

“Morning!” they both squeak in unison.

“Uh, just heading down for breakfast,” James says for the sake of speaking.

“Yeah, us too,” Geno replies.

None of them move.

Sid directs his thumb backwards at the closed door. “Uh, I was just in there because… my room… the water pressure… there were like, problems and stuff. So that’s why I was at Geno’s room, using his bathroom.”

“Yeah, of course,” James replies on instinct and bobs his head up and down. He mentally catalogues the fact that Sidney Crosby is a terrible liar. Could come in handy for the future.

Another door bursts open and Paul emerges out of their room and into the hallway. He stops short when he sees what probably appear to be three immovable objects blocking his path.

“Hey guys,” Paul regards the three of them individually. “What the hell is going on?”

“Breakfast.” Sidney says before darting towards the elevators unexpectedly. Geno takes that cue and follows Sid’s lead, leaving James and Paul rooted to the hallway.

Paul turns to James with an incredulous stare. “What the fuck was that?”

“Dunno,” James replies.

But he thinks he does.

 

“How come Lazy and Paulie not follow us?” Evgeni wonders out loud. He peeks between the closing elevator doors but the two in question are nowhere in sight.

“We’re so fucked!” Sidney hisses. He sounds hysterical and on the cusp of hyperventilating. “Why did you do that? You fucking distracted us!” He shakes his head while chanting “Stupid stupid stupid!”

What? He just innocently nipped a little bit at the back of Sidney’s neck on the way out of their room. There isn’t even a visible mark. He’s overreacting, as per usual. “Sid, calm down. Maybe Nealsy not know. He stupid, you know.”

“This isn’t time for a joke!” Evgeni’s smile falters and Sidney scrubs his face with his hands. “We need to think of a cover.” Sidney pauses as if to mentally collect all the fragments of the morning in his head. “I already said that thing about the water pressure being bad in my room. And he saw us walking out of your room. I mean, we can salvage that part. If we think of something. What do you think?”

Evgeni thinks that they should tell him the truth. James may not be the brightest bulb in the pack but he has a good heart and if Evgeni had to start somewhere, James would be one of the first. He’s contemplated telling James in fact. He can’t tell that to Sidney though. He’d go ballistic. “We say nothing. More we explain, more…” he rolls his hands in front of him hoping to convey what he can’t in English.

“The more suspicious we look,” Sidney says with a nod. “Good thinking.” He doesn’t add anything further so the plan seems finalized to Sidney.

Evgeni wants to sigh. He was actually hoping that the encounter could be the catalyst for a confession. Nothing ever goes his way.

He forgoes his usual seat in order to eat with Sidney and Brandon. He’s not avoiding Nealsy, he’s not. Yes, his winger would be the first person Evgeni would approach about this subject, but not in a reactionary sort of measure. But his running theory that Nealsy's couldn’t spot a clandestine couple if one bit the other in front of him is strong. Especially if there had been a two inch thick sound-proof door between them. So really, there’s nothing to be afraid of.

Maybe if he _accidentally_ hits a slapper at Nealsy’s head during the morning skate he’ll conveniently develop amnesia and forget it altogether.

Evgeni wisely targets his shots exclusively onto Flower and deliberately chirps James about the awful moustache he’s sporting for the month as shootout loser. It’s pretty convincing. Even Sidney laughs. The sound has become ridiculously endearing to him.

Unfortunately the incident that morning cancels out any possibility for a little afternoon delight. Sidney’s not one for distractions during his pre-game rituals but can be persuaded from time to time under very particular circumstances. Evgeni texts him a few minutes before Sidney’s perfunctory afternoon nap and gets a clipped “no” back rather promptly. This much is not out of the ordinary at least. Sidney says his system works fine exactly as it is.

(Evgeni begs to differ. Sidney could stand to relax a little more before games and Evgeni is more than willing to altruistically supply his mouth or any other part of his body that Sidney so chooses, but this is neither here nor there.)

Nevertheless, they win the game that night in a blow-out. It’s a testament that they’re able to play their brand of hockey and win in the face of personal adversity. There are more Pens on the score sheet than off. Sidney is smiling cheek-to-cheek in his post-game presser. It carries over to their hotel room.

“Your little dish to Nealer was a thing of beauty!” he’s bouncing on the bed, recreating the shot with a phantom stick in his hands.

“I do all work, Lazy score,” Evgeni says with feigned irritation. But he can’t help himself from smiling as he shuffles on his knees towards Sidney. They’ve both had an exhausting game but he doesn't anticipate that either of them will be sleeping anytime soon.

“It was gorgeous.”

“You gorgeous.” Evgeni punctuates this with a kiss that’s every bit as energetic as the game they’ve just completed. Sidney’s mouth opens and Evgeni tastes victory against his tongue. Their giggles begin to dissipate as their blood begins to rise.

 

James is lying spread-eagle in his bed. He feels a thorough fatigue steeped into his bones and he ought to call it a day but rest doesn’t seem concerned with him.

He had the entire day to consider what he had witnessed that morning. An entire day to piece together all the fragments of various interactions he’s had with Geno and Sid, both together and in isolation. He hadn’t even entertained the notion that it could have been like… this. Even that one time when Geno showed up in the shower room with scratches on his back the same day Sid was spotted with a mass of hickey-like spots on his neck and chest. Geno had just grinned smugly while Sid had alleged an allergic reaction to some sort of topical cream he was using. He hadn’t even thought to connect those two incidents together because, well, who would have guessed that your captain and assistant captain were sleeping together?

Apparently are still sleeping together? Maybe doing the dirty as we speak? Damn it, why is he thinking about this?!

He wonders how this came to be, and how long they’ve been doing it. They’ve certainly done a good job keeping it a secret, at least up until this point. He wonders if anyone else knows. Maybe it’s an open secret among his more tenured teammates and he, as a relatively new addition, just hadn’t been made privy.

It’s really not his business, but he considers both of them his friends. Geno’s even called him his favourite player on the team and if that’s not a vote of confidence then he doesn’t know what is. He’s spent time with both Geno and Sid and while their personalities weren’t diametrically opposed, they don’t exactly approach the world the same way. What do they even have in common? They’re just two fantastic franchise hockey players that work tirelessly on their games and eat, sleep and breathe hockey…

Well, in that respect, they’re absolutely perfect for each other.

“Hey Paulie?”

His roommate is sitting up in the adjacent bed with a book as thick as a hamburger. “Hmm?” Paul doesn’t even look up from his reading.

“What would you do if you think you found out something about someone that you don’t think that you’re supposed to know?”

Paul turns to him now. “Is this about what happened this morning in the hallway with Sid and Geno?”

“Do you know something about that?” James can feel his pulse race anxiously as he strains to his side to get a better look at Paul.

“No. What happened?”

“Oh. I don’t know.” At least now he knows that Paul is as oblivious as he is. He lies back down. “Probably just some dumb inside joke.”

“What are you asking about then?”

“Oh. Just coz…” James is better at playing dumb than he’s given credit for. “I got a text from a buddy back home that I don’t think was supposed to go to me. What do you think I should do?”

Paul marks his page and sets his book down. “It depends. What did your buddy text you? Is it something that could get him in trouble? Something illegal?”

“No. Well, it’s not illegal.” Not anymore it isn’t. “But I guess it could get him in trouble. Not like, it wouldn’t affect his career—well, I guess it would, but it wouldn't affect his ability—“ He should just come out and say it. “I think he’s gay.”

“Oh.” Paul tilts his head contemplatively. “Is that really something that could get him in trouble?”

“Uh, maybe. I don’t think his parents know. His family is like… really religious? So he probably doesn’t think that they would accept him if he told them that. And his friends are like, kinda like us? Sorta macho and stuff.”

“Macho?” Paul repeats with laughter around the edges. “Is a guy that spends more time on his hair than practicing on the ice macho?”

“Fuck you.”

That at last draws out a laugh. “Okay okay. So this friend of yours doesn’t want people knowing he’s gay because he fears backlash from everyone around him, basically?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a problem with him being gay?”

James hasn’t thought to consider this. He figures that it would take an adjustment to be comfortable thinking about Sid and Geno as… well, Sid _and_ Geno but he has always figured that he probably has played with at least one gay teammate. He just didn’t expect to be on the same team together and… _together._ It makes him consider what else he may have missed during his time in the NHL. “No, I don’t,” he says truthfully.

“Maybe it would help if you talked to him. Made him feel like you had his support. He would probably appreciate it a lot, you know? It would make it easier for him knowing that you have his back.”

That's a great idea in general. Except for the part where he’d have to talk to Sid and Geno about how he knows they're bumping uglies (or however the hell they do it… he doesn’t really want to invest too much imagination into it), and how they know that he knows. James groans. “Do I have to?”

“If you want to look like a non-douchey friend.” Paul’s eyes drift upwards to James’s hair and smirks. “Well, you know.”

Huh? He has the impression that he’s just been insulted. “Takes one to know one,” is his go-to comeback.

“Why thank you, James.”

Oops.

 

It’s been more than a week since _that incident_ in the Montreal hotel hallway and while Sidney is positive that James has seen something, it’s entirely possible that his interpretation of the events is incongruent with what actually happened. Sidney feels like they’ve dodged a bullet and taken it as a learning experience. Geno’s been pretty good about that too, although he still does from time to time leave hickeys in less visible places. Then Sidney has to be mindful of the way he walks in the shower room.

He’s asked Geno twice already at regular intervals and he’s due to ask again so he does. “Did Nealer say anything to you about last week yet?”

They’re alone in the parking garage and walking towards their respective vehicles. Geno stops short at the question. “No,” he snips. His face darkens.

Sidney’s eyes narrow. “Why are you annoyed that I’m asking?”

“Because you ask so many time now,” is Geno’s curt reply. “If he say anything I tell you.”

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Geno. But he doesn’t discount the possibility that Geno and Nealer have some sort of agreement on this matter, considering what good friends they are. And he knows that he’s being a little neurotic about the entire thing but he feels like he has to be wary enough for both of them if Geno isn’t able to comprehend the magnitude of the shit storm that their outing would generate.

“What if Lazy know? That so bad?”

He feels inclined to blurt out a resounding “Yes”, but he doesn’t want to offend Geno. Instead, Sidney says “We don’t know for sure if that’s good.”

He wishes he hadn’t asked about James in the first place, especially when Geno asks “You ashamed of me?”

Sidney closes his eyes and exhales slowly. He takes the time to formulate his response. “I’m not ashamed of you Geno. It’s just not as simple as you make it out to be.”

“What, tell people? Why so scare Sid? Is not like we tell world.”

There’s no contesting that Geno’s angry, and Sidney is not equipped to deal with another fight. He’s noticed that they’ve been fighting more often now, and it’s almost exclusively on this subject (or its derivative). His life would be so much easier if he wasn’t so attracted to Geno, if Geno’s body didn’t know all the ways to make Sidney lose control, if he hadn’t fucking fallen in love with him.

“Can we talk about this later? Let’s just drive over to your place first.” Sidney tries to rub the throbbing in his head out through his temples. He hears Geno let out a sigh of frustration beside him.

They barely make it through the mudroom before Geno starts talking again. “Tell me Sid. You not even want to tell parents? You not think they want know about you? They love you Sid, they your parents!”

“It’s not about that, G. I know they love me and I know that if I told them about us they would still love me. But the more people that know, the easier it is to leak out. If we can keep it contained then we may as well keep it contained.” Geno looks absolutely scandalized so Sidney meekly adds “For the time being.”

Geno folds his arms in front of him. “For how long? We together more than three months now.”

“Three months isn’t a long time,” Sidney blurts without thinking and regrets it immediately when he sees Geno’s face flush hot red.

“Three months mean nothing to you?” there’s a sharp edge to Geno’s voice that Sidney doesn’t like. It’s begging for a confrontation.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what you mean?”

“I’m just saying that there's no real urgency to start telling people.”

“Why not? We know we love each other. Is big deal, no? Love me, right Sid?” Geno grabs Sidney by the back of his neck and forces them to make eye contact.

Sidney squirms on instinct. “Yes, but…” he bites his lip and averts his gaze.

Geno’s arm drops to his side and he takes a step back. “Is not fair, not let me tell anyone. Important people in my life.”

Sidney shuts his eyes and concentrates on letting out one slow, even breath.

“Not fair,” Geno snipes again, goading Sidney for a response.

“I think,” Sidney says finally, regarding Geno fully. “We need a bit of alone time, to think.”

“Fine.”Geno uses the baluster to swing his way towards the basement. “I go downstairs to do laundry, you stay this floor or go upstairs.”

“No Geno, I mean I’ll go home.”

Geno freezes on the top step of the stairway, then backtracks up. “Why you need go home?”

“We just need some distance to clear our heads a little bit, probably. Maybe that’s the problem, because we’re always around each other. It probably distorts our perceptions of time and reality.”

Geno grunts and tests out a few sentences without avail. Finally he places his hand on Sidney’s bicep in lieu of words. “Sorry okay? Forget what I say before.”

Sidney shakes his head and Geno’s hand off his arm. “I can’t just do that. Obviously this is important to you." He fetches his keys out of his pocket and heads towards the garage to his car. " I’ll see you later.”

He catches the look on Geno’s face as he leaves and it looks vaguely familiar, like he’s seen it before.

 

James’s finger hovers around his phone screen and it takes his last ounce of courage to press down on the “dial” button. It rings a few times before Sid picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey Sid. Uh, it’s James. Uh, what’s up?” Damn it, maybe he should have rehearsed this part too.

“Nothing much. How are you?”

“I’m… good, thanks. Thanks for asking.” Just man up and say it Neal! “Hey uh, got any dinner plans today?”

“Not anym—I mean, no.”

“Oh okay, cool. You wanna grab something to eat? We could meet at _Off the Hook_ at six?” He’s already made the reservation so if Sidney bails then he’ll feel like a fool.

“Um. Uh, okay, sure.”

“Okay, cool. So we’ll meet at _Off the Hook_ at six?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great, see ya there Sid!”

“Okay, see ya.”

James puffs up his cheeks and lets out a sharp exhale once the call disconnects. He really hopes that the two of them appreciate this. He’s purposely decided to go at each of them individually to decrease his chance of getting double-teamed by them. And his chance of getting embarrassed by the whole situation. Although he supposes that the ship has long sailed after specifically requesting a private room intended for couples while booking the table.

There’s even a vase with a rose to seal the humiliation. He winces. Sid either doesn’t see it or pretends not to as he sits down.

“This is kinda formal,” Sid observes with a survey around the room. The giggle definitely sounds nervous.

James considers making a joke about showing Sid a good time but decides against it. “Well, you know. Just wanted privacy since I know you’re a private guy.”

Sid smiles stiffly and opens the menu.

Surely he must know why James is doing this. He has a plan and it’s a good one. He tells Sid, without any awkward language barriers, that he’s totally cool with the whole him and Geno being gay together thing, offers his unconditional support and yadiyada. Sid then articulates this to Geno in whatever form he wishes, then once Geno gets the gist of it James will extend the same support to him in the form of a bro pat and then all will be good. He hopes. Maybe they’ll even ask him to be best man at their wedding. He’d be cool with that, honestly.

But Sid looks reserved and just a touch defensive. And all they’ve done is talk about the Steelers. This conversation would probably be easier with Geno, language barrier and all.

When dessert is served James just comes out with it. “Sid, if you haven’t noticed, this isn’t a date. Maybe you didn’t realize because you were so mesmerized by my good looks.” It’s a joke intended to lighten the mood but Sidney’s expression doesn’t even break once. James’s smile falters and he clears his throat. “But, uh, I invited you out here for a reason. I’m here because I want to talk to you about you and Geno.”

“Um,” Sid mashes the tip of his cheesecake with the prongs of his fork. “What about me and Geno?” His voice cracks every other syllable. Like James had observed before, terrible liar.

He’ll keep it sweet and simple, like the brownie a la mode in front of him. “I know that you and Geno have been… you know.” Sid’s face is already beet red so he’ll spare them both the sexual euphemisms. “I don’t know the exact nature of your relationship and you don’t need to tell me. I just want to let you know that it’s totally cool with me if you guys are… you know. Or whatever. You guys have my support. And…” What else had Paul said? “…I got your back.”

The split second of self-righteousness ends when Sid begins to sob. Uncontrollably. He buries his face in his hands and his entire frame is shaking.

Shit. He’s made Sidney Crosby cry. He’s broken his captain. Ray is going to trade him for sure.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” is the first thing James thinks to say.

Sid’s voice sounds completely shot when he speaks. He’s pressing his napkin against his eyes and hiccups. “I’m sorry,” he repeats over and over again until he can collect himself. He heaves one last shaky breath. “I’m such a fucking mess. It’s been so difficult, especially lately.” He sniffles. James hands him another napkin.

Seeing his teammate, his captain and his friend like this just tears James apart inside. It doesn’t seem fair. “You know,” he begins as he slowly connects what seemed like mutually exclusive incidents previously in his peripheral memory. “I’ve spent a lot of time with Geno. Maybe not as much lately because…” he kicks Sid’s foot underneath the table and is pleased when he grins. “And sometimes he seems like the happiest son of a bitch in the world. And other times he looks like the world is ending. I’ve never seen him like that. It’s you who has that effect on him. I can tell that you mean an awful lot to him.”

The only responses James gets are more soft sniffles so he rolls on. “Geno’s a great guy, and you know, I don’t know what exactly you guys are doing, but I know the kind of guy you are too. You guys deserve to be happy.” He chuckles to himself, seeing the irony now. “Easier said than done for you though, eh? With all the shit you’d have to deal with.”

Sid is twisting the napkin in his hand and in a tiny voice whispers “He wants to start telling people about us.”

“Oh.” That’s a little more information than James knows how to handle. “And you don’t want to?”

“I want to,” Sid insists like he’s trying to prove something. “Well. I want to want to. But I just… don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“You’re dating one of the best hockey players in the world, real disappointing,” James says with a side smirk. It at least draws the first laugh out of him in a while.

“Fuck.” Sid sniffles and presses his fingers against his tear ducts. “I want him to be happy more than anything. And I want to make him happy. I just don’t think that telling people is going to do that.”

James crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, regarding Sid critically. “Why not?” he implores him, feeling like a television psychologist.

“Because… because… people are going to think that I’m a failure.” James quirks an eyebrow and with a heavy sigh, Sid elucidates. “Why can’t I have a normal relationship with a girl, get married, start a family? I’m twenty-six. My parents were much younger than that when they had me. And I’m their only son. Geno has an older brother to take the pressure off him. He doesn’t know how it feels. My parents practically lived their lives around me. I owe them so much.”

For some reason James cannot see it as the heady confession that he’s sure Sid had intended. It seems to him that it all boils down to one thing. “So what you’re saying is… your being gay would be a disappointment to your parents and you don’t want to disappoint them after all they’ve done for you.”

“I’m not gay,” Sid insists. “I’m—“ he mouths a few words before slumping his shoulders. “I don’t know what I am.”

James is less eager to pry into that entire sphere of thinking so instead he says this: “I doubt that telling your parents about Geno would cause your parents to regret investing so much into you when you were younger if that’s what you’re getting at.” Sid remains quiet, as if urging James to continue so he does.

“Every parent’s dream is to see their child grow up to be happy, to be successful, and to be a good person. You’ve got the last two pretty down pat. If Geno helps you achieve the first one then what else could they ask for?” James winces. “I hope you get what I’m saying because I don’t think I’m ever going to repeat anything as cheesy as that ever again.”

Sid looks thoughtful so James adds, "Besides, if you fuck up your life, your sister's smart, right? If hockey doesn't work out for her then she can go to law school and bail you out of jail before she kicks your sorry ass."

Sid finally smiles, and it’s an honest-to-God relieved one. “I appreciate your perspective, James. And…” he waves his hand at their surroundings. “I appreciate the effort you’ve put into this. I don’t think it could have come at a better time too. Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

And James is such a good friend that he lets Sid pick up the check with only a token show of resistance. Just a bro letting his bro win for once.

 

The doorbell rings as Evgeni is shovelling another forkful of skillet stir fry straight out of the pan into his mouth. He’s really not in the mood for company. He considers ignoring the caller but his mother has caught him better than that. He begrudgingly takes the pan off his lap and shuffles toward his front door.

He’s spent every moment since Sidney left agonizing over their conversation earlier that day. He lost his resolve a few hours in and began texting Sidney, incessantly. He doesn’t care how pathetic or desperate it makes him look. What he does care about is the fact that Sidney doesn’t respond to a single one of them.

The hours of introspection made him realize what an ass he was being to Sidney. He’s right. Three months isn’t a long time, even if it’s felt like much longer, even if he’s beginning to realize that his love for Sidney predates the first night when with no rhyme or reason it just seemed to make sense to lean down and brush their lips together. He didn’t know then what he knows now, that he’d wanted Sidney before he could comprehend it.

He can’t expect Sidney to be in the same headspace. They view the world entirely differently. Evgeni embraces it, Sidney is more guarded. He has every right to be weary. Evgeni wants to understand, he’s willing to try, if Sidney will let him. Would answer his God damned phone.

There are only a few people who know his entrance gate password so he can’t be bothered looking through the peephole to see who the visitor might be. He’s more concerned about getting this person in and out so he can go back to brooding for the rest of the night.

It’s Sidney.

He doesn’t have a moment to react because Sidney doesn’t wait a beat to wrap his arms around Evgeni’s waist and bury his face in the crook of his neck. And Evgeni, no matter what mood he’s in, can only respond by placing one hand onto the small of Sidney’s back and the other into his hair.

They don’t speak for a moment until Sidney pulls back. His eyes look puffy from crying and he’s trembling. He’s a complete mess in Evgeni’s arms but there’s really nothing Sidney can do that Evgeni doesn’t regard as beautiful.

“Sid, Sid, what’s wrong?” Evgeni strokes his hand up and down Sidney’s back to calm him down. The act involuntarily triggers a memory of the first time he’d ever held Sidney like this, that first night when Evgeni was almost positive that Sidney was going to bolt. He instinctively holds Sidney tighter.

“Nealer knows about us.”

For some reason Evgeni's not entirely surprised. Nealsy isn’t _that_ dumb (which still makes him pretty dumb) and he’s definitely not blind. It was just a matter of time before that squirrel found the acorn. “I not tell him, promise.”

“I know, he told me. He told me a lot of stuff.” He feels Sidney turn his head to press his face into Evgeni’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Geno. You’re right, I’m being unfair to you. I’m being selfish.”

Evgeni takes one real look at Sidney. His eyes are red and his face is flushed. No no no this isn’t right. He doesn’t know where these words are coming from and he hates how they sound in the defeated tremor of Sidney’s voice. “No Sid, I sorry. I ask too much, is hard for you. I the selfish one. We wait okay?”

“No Geno, you’re right, you and Nealer—“

“No Sid, I not want you to—“

Sidney breaks into a wide grin suddenly, and the words stop short in Evgeni’s throat. “We’re fighting again Geno. I don’t want to fight.”

“Me too.” He can’t help grinning back, or pressing a soft kiss against the tip of Sidney’s nose.

“I want you to be happy, Geno. I want us to be happy together. And we can’t be if we keep hiding this from the people who care about us. I think I understand now. So if you still want to start telling the people you want to tell, I’m ready.”

He feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop smiling.“Really?”

Sidney nods. His bright eyes convey everything left unsaid. Evgeni could watch them, could devote his entire existence to them and not regret a moment. He feels like a new beginning for them has dawned.

 

James feels like a whole new person, a purveyor of sage advice on all the earthly happenings of humankind. He doesn’t care if Paul snorts at his newfound calling. He’s only helped the face of the NHL find peace and companionship with one of the few people in the world that devotes his life to hockey at as close of a capacity as he does.

Now he has to talk to Geno.

Not gonna lie, he’s terrified.

Like, yeah, he and Geno are buds. They hang out off the ice pretty often and he gets along with Geno in a way he doesn’t with Paulie (who is more put-together and kind of like the ying to James’s yang, although he will never tell anyone else this because when he told Becs she got all excited and thought he was telling her that Paul was his boyfriend… sisters). But he has no idea if Geno is okay with James knowing what he knows and when Geno wants to be a bully he is absolutely terrifying.

There’s no observable change between Sid and Geno in the locker room. They’re business there. Geno makes some a bold prediction regarding the medalists for the men’s Olympic hockey tournament (which causes Brooks Orpik to throw a sock at him) while Sid and Kuni exchange eye rolls.

(Truth of the matter is, James is still holding onto the sliver of hope that he can join them in Sochi because although the two Penguin representatives for Team Canada are amazing hockey players, they are making no attempt at smack talk and would benefit greatly from James’s expertise.)

Practice goes as well as he could ask and he’s dressed and ready get the hell out of there while he’s still ahead and not sporting a Geno-shaped knuckleprint in the back of his skull when said bully drapes a heavy arm around James’s shoulder.

“Lazy!” he sounds congenial enough. James is suspicious. “Why in rush? Hungry. Want tacos. Let’s go.”

James loves tacos. Geno knows this. So this must be a trap. But… tacos. And Geno probably won’t break his knees. He needs them to be Geno’s winger! So tacos!

He finds himself in Geno’s passenger seat and they’re en route to arguably the best Mexican place in Pittsburgh when Geno suddenly says “Sid tell me that you know about us.”

“Uh, yeah,” he feels his upper lip break out with sweat. “You guys weren’t all that discreet.”

Geno doesn’t sound angry. In fact, he sounds relieved. “How you figure out?”

James takes this as an open invitation to relay all the instances he could remember that could have easily implicated the two of them to a relationship, with that incident in the hallway pretty much sealing the deal. James turns quickly to gauge Geno’s reaction and sees Geno grinning contently. He looks happy. It has the instant effect of loosening the tightness in James's stomach.

“I glad is you who find out Nealsy, out of all teammates. You good guy. Trust you. Sid think same.”

“Really?” any residual doubt regarding Geno’s intentions fly out the window and he looks at Geno in disbelief.

Well, maybe he isn’t giving himself enough credit. He is a humble guy. And he’s put himself in serious peril for their sake. Risking embarrassment and your own dignity is a serious peril. He felt the same way when the world found out about the frequency of his hair washing.

“Sid tell me what you tell him yesterday. Help us a lot. Good friend Nealsy. Thank you.”

“Aw, you know,” he shrugs modestly. “It’s no big deal. If it was me I’d want someone to do the same.”

“Oh.” Geno taps the steering wheel thoughtfully before saying “If you ever want tell me about you and Paulie I very open to talk.”

James hits the heel of his hand against his forehead. Not this again.

Nevertheless he’s once again rewarded with another fine meal. Honestly, he loves Pittsburgh. He has no idea why he was ever spiteful about the trade from Dallas. There’s no time difference going back to Whitby, he gets all four seasons, and his teammates can’t stop giving him free food. Life as a purveyor of sage advice on all the earthly happenings of humankind is divine.

 

“Sid? You okay?” Geno asks him when he loops around the terminal for the second time. His parents are here, somewhere. God, he hates how airports make him feel. His hands are clammy against the steering wheel.

Suffice to say, he’s really not okay. He’s never just felt okay with Geno since they’ve started this. He doesn’t like the concept of okay. Being better than okay indicates a desired state. Not being okay indicates room for improvement. Being just okay is a liminal space he doesn’t understand. He lets out a shaky breath. “I’m nervous, that’s all.”

“Nervous is normal. I nervous too.”Geno places his hand on Sidney’s thigh. He can feel it shaking independently from the car rumble. Geno leaves his hand there while he scans their surroundings. “You sure I not need move to back?”

“They need the extra room. Whenever they visit my mom always has to bring a lot of extra stuff.”

Geno grins knowingly. “You mean she bring extra stuff for son who still not know how to live on his own?”

“They haven’t even seen my new house before, remember?” Sidney points out, but his mock indignation fails when he lets a grin slip.

“I say we can stay at my place. Instead of listen you go and buy two sets of blankets for their bed and not even wash them.”

“That’s too soon Geno,” Sidney says, carefully soft. “I don’t want to stress them out. Or you. Besides, this is the first time they’ll get to see my new place. Even if some of the rooms are still empty I think they’ll want to spend some time there.” He paused. “Oh, I guess I need to check my mail too,” he adds as an afterthought. It’s beginning to dawn on him that collecting his mail is one of the few reasons he has to for stopping over at his place at all. He’s not even sure why he even bothered calling the bank.

Geno snorts. “Anything important, agent tell you. Anything in mail is old news.”

“Some of the mail is still time sensitive,” Sidney insists. “And I’m an adult. I should be able to maintain a functioning household. Have people over. Stuff like that.”

“Dining room good and clean, yes?”

“Yeah.” They have it all planned out. They’ve booked the private chef. They’ve invited Mario and Nathalie. Explaining to his father why he needed him to accompany his mother on the mom's trip without breaking down was a test of his mental fortitude. He's terrified beyond belief. There’s no backing out. But he doesn’t want to, especially when he rests his hand on the gear changer and feels Geno’s cup his on top. The touch is delicate, but there's strength and composure there. Geno's always known exactly what Sidney needs. Maybe that's why they find themselves where they are now. They both turn to the passenger side window and spot his mother and father waving.

Sidney closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath. When he opens them he looks at Geno. “Ready?”

Geno catches Sidney’s gaze and holds it. “Sid, I ready since the first night.”

Before Sidney has time to contemplate the significance of those words Geno’s already opening the door and jogging up to receive them. Sidney takes one more moment to collect himself and follows Geno’s lead.

He’s still not okay. He knows that there are still a lot of things they’ve yet to discover, about themselves, about other people, about the society they live in. He knows that his life will never be easy or simple. But with Geno he won't get okay. They'll combat the world, and each other, to always strive to be better.


End file.
